


Lucky Charm

by QueenoftheHobbits



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 11:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18991459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheHobbits/pseuds/QueenoftheHobbits
Summary: Charlie always says you’re his lucky charm for quidditch.





	Lucky Charm

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the original post on tumblr and my artwork gif of Charlie: https://imaginesofeveryfandom.tumblr.com/post/185175209435/lucky-charm  
> Artblog: https://artisticwarnug.tumblr.com/post/181646735002/the-swoon-worthy-charlie-weasley-1010-would-stare

“You’re coming to my quidditch game on Saturday, right?” Your attention was drawn away from the essay you were writing during Rakepick’s Defence Against the Dark Arts class, by Charlie leaning across the gap between your desks. 

He had that particular soft smile, that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and his freckles dance, directed at you. His red hair was pulled back like usual in small ponytail at the back of his neck, his tie was loose around his neck and your fingers itched to tighten it properly. 

You loved classes with Charlie. Partly because he was your friend, which meant spending time with him was fun, he made classes less boring and always made you smile. But, partly because since 4th year you’d had more than a little crush on the boy. 

“Of course, when have I not?” 

“Just wanted to check, you’re kind of my lucky charm after all.”

“Charlie, it is entirely coincidentally that you catch the snitch the majority of the time i’m at the games.” After all Charlie was good enough to play for England. It wasn’t a secret that he was incredibly talented even with his frame being more of beater’s than a seeker’s. 

“Nope, it’s cause you’re my lucky charm.” You roll your eyes at him and return to your essay, but its hard to deny that your heart is beating just a little too fast and your hands are a tiny bit clammier than normal from his words.

Gryffindor verses Slytherin Quidditch matches were always tense and Charlie was always a little bit nervous before them. A lot rides on his shoulders, they would win the cup if he caught the snitch. But he takes a deep breath, thinks about you up in the stands cheering him and the others on, now he’s captain of the Gryffindor team, now its your last year of Hogwarts, and he knows he can do this despite a variety of nasty faces staring him down from the other team. 

You always got nervous watching Charlie play, mostly because bludgers always seemed to get so bloody close to him and because on more than one occasion he had taken some rather bad hits and ended up in the hospital wing. Charlie wasn’t as small as some seekers, who made smaller targets. Charlie was broad shouldered and large, his brother had once compared him in size to a Gorilla and it wasn’t far off. He was large and it made him a larger target. You were always on the edge of your seat wishing him luck and praying that he didn’t get hurt. 

Nymphadora Tonks was commentating the game today in her usual bubbly, cheeky style. You barely listened to her commentary watching as chasers lost the ball, gained the ball, scored. As bludgers were batted away from the Gryffindor team one hitting Merula Snyde right in the ribs but she carried on, despite being slightly slower now. 

You always watched Charlie though, the other players didn’t really matter so much. You watched and watched until you saw it. The little dart of his eyes and then he was careening forward. He’d spotted the snitch. As always once Charlie noticed the other seeker noticed, but even on a shoddy broom Charlie was faster, always able to get the best out of the broom the way he got the best out of animals and people. You wondered if brooms truly understood the character of their rider. 

You watched in awe and horror as Charlie got closer and closer to the ground and with a lunge off of his broom and straight to the pitch terf caught the snitch in his hand, holding it aloft like some sort of trophy.

“With 180 points to 50 Gryffindor win!” Tonks yelled over the cheers, but you were already making the long decent down the stands and towards the pitch.

It took a few minutes, to get down and out, but then you were rushing towards him, “YOU DID IT!” You were halfway to him and he turned to smile at you. A smile so bright you thought you might burn up and melt like Icarus. 

You’re a little out of breath when you reach him, not being particularly sporty yourself, and throw your arms around his shoulders pulling him into a hug. It was a post match ritual of sorts, that you would come and congratulate him as everyone began to get ready to leave. 

“Of course I did, my lucky charm was there, love.” You look away from him as you pull back slightly, biting your lip bashfully. He always knew how to make you giddy, bashful, a little bit unsure. All because of your silly little crush. 

“Charlie…”

“You’re my lucky charm…” He turns you head back to face him with a gentle hand under your chin. “and I hope I don’t lose you when we graduate.” 

“You won’t.” You promise, sure that wherever he went for his dragon obsession you’d follow. You could be a healer anywhere. Anywhere. As long as the two of you stuck together that was what mattered. Charlie made you feel like you could tackle anything, a mountain troll, a dragon, an oversized niffler. 

His face is so close yours that you can see every individual freckle, that his nose brushes against yours, that you can feel his breath against your skin. “Can I kiss you now?” 

“Yes” Its barely a whisper from you and you barely have it out before his mouth is pressed to yours, a hand supporting the back of your neck and another pulling at your waist until there is not space between you.

You barely register that those students still around are cheering and catcalling, because Charlie Weasley is finally kissing you and it feels right. It feels like your soul has lifted out of your body and flown away. It feels like a thousand homecomings. It feels like you’re supposed to be there, in his arms, pressing your lips against his and following his lead. 

“Will you go out with me?” Its a whisper still as the two of you pull away, only slightly, foreheads still pressed together, noses still brushing.

“Yes, Charlie.” You laugh slightly, giddy, “I’ll go out with you.” 


End file.
